


The Dark Museum

by Nellblazer



Category: Black Mirror (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anthology, Challenges, Dark Loki (Marvel), Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Horror, Inspired by Black Mirror, Knifeplay, Museums, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Serial Killers, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: Finally getting tickets to the most exclusive haunted house in the country, you almost miss the event but Mr Laufeyson is happy to show you around even though you’re late.For @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House challenge. Based on The Black Museum Episode of Black Mirror*Please do not replicate my work anywhere else without my express permission*
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 146





	The Dark Museum

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Gore, murder, disturbing themes, knife play, non-con/dubcon, manipulation, torture, psychological torture.  
> Please heed the warnings. This gets fucked up.
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors, possible tense errors since I’ve been writing first person for a while)
> 
> Happy reading!   
> \- NB xx

You couldn't believe you were finally here.

Standing outside the most notorious haunted house in the country that had taken you a few years to get tickets to. The exclusivity of the meagre guest list was so extreme that you thought you'd never be able to visit.

Then this year, the form had changed. Now it required you to answer questions about yourself, your fears and your triggers, your health conditions and even down to the kind of media you like watching. Perhaps they were going to use it against you like that one house that basically tortures you for the entire night.

When you got the waiver through this morning, your gut twisted but not with fear, with excitement. You signed without ever properly reading to the end, skipping over the legal jargon and only noting they were not going to be responsible if you suffered a heart attack or stroke.

Fine with you.

You'd almost missed the entire event, your bus breaking down a few blocks away and you sprinting all the way here but you were just in time. In fact, being late was probably better. Less jittery people around you to make you feel worse. You could feel the emotions entirely on your own.

“A straggler I see,” a lithe man in a dark suit approaches, his long hair neatly combed back. “You almost didn't make it.”

“Transport trouble,” you pant. “I'm not too late, am I?”

“On the contrary,” he laughs softly. “You are the last one here but it just means I can make the experience more personal. I do prefer that. Groups get a little rowdy. There was a significant amount of screaming from the group two hours ago and my ears have not stopped ringing since.”

“I'm not sure if I'm much of a screamer,” you admit before realising how sexual that sounds. “Uh...I mean...”

“I understand, don't worry,” he smiles, green eyes glittering in the low light. “Now present your ticket and come along.”

You fish out the slip of paper and he takes it before his lips purse in thought, “Ah yes, you were the difficult one to tailor this to.”

“Difficult?”

“The reason this place is so exclusive, my dear, is that it's unique to the individuals. We decided to expand on that premise this year. You....yes you were particularly tricky but I think we've found an experience that will cause you a significant amount of dread. Are you ready?”

“Hell yeah, I'm ready,” you're almost bouncing on the spot with anticipation.

“Well aren't you a delight?” he hums appreciatively. “I'm Mr Laufeyson and welcome to the Dark Museum of Asgard.”

He pushes open the double doors and gestures to follow. When you get past the threshold and a little beyond, the doors close all by themselves. You found that a really cool effect.

“Whilst you're here, there's only one rule. If you're too scared and wish to leave, simply say 'I surrender' and I shall let you go but note, if you do, you will never be able to come back to this place ever again. Understand?”

“I understand,” you nod eagerly.

Mr Laufeyson seems to appraise you for a moment before grinning, “Very well, you are familiar with Asgard? Top of the nine realms?”

“Yeah, I think everyone is since New York.”

“The tales that have filtered down to Earth are all positive, all speaking of heroes and gods...well Asgard has a much darker underbelly than you might think. I've spoken to the inhabitants and garnered their stories and their relics. I shall tell you three stories this night of the worst that Asgard has to offer.”

“This sounds amazing!”

“Your enthusiasm is rather appreciated,” Mr Laufeyson nods before opening the first door in the house. “Enter as you will.”

As you pass into the room, it's like the world revolves three hundred and sixty degrees and you fall through a shining golden curtain. You stumble before finding your feet and see you're in a dark blue room with a single pedestal in the centre, a bust of a tortured looking man housing the sole interesting thing in here.

A silver necklace with a swirling gemstone pendant. At first you thought it might be black but it shimmered with opalescence when you walked, the light catching it from different angles. You could feel something wasn't right even from here.

“Shall I begin?” Mr Laufeyson asks, going to stand next to it. “You seem a little perturbed, my dear.”

“I'm fine. Please, go on.”

“As you wish.”

**

_The Kennasteinn_

“The Kennasteinn is the product of Asgard's greater healer and also its greatest nightmare. Rangvald Erlendson was tired of losing his patients, tired of his patients downplaying their injuries or exaggerating them. He wanted to feel what they felt, to diagnose through his own experiences.

After all, a patient can never fully express themselves.”

“He made this necklace?” you point.

“He did,” Mr Laufeyson nods. “It took him years but he finally made it. There are two, but I only possess one and it is perhaps fortunate that they are separated. Rangvald would wear one and slip the second over the neck of the patient. They were in tune with one another and so he could feel what they felt.

From then on his success rate grew, he saved more people, he was able to prevent further injuries. His stature as a healer became the best Asgard had ever seen. The only problem was...he started to get curious with it.”

“Curious how?”

“Darling, what do you think the first thing a man would do if he could feel what another person feels?”

“Uh....” you feel embarrassed saying it. “Sex?”

“Sex,” Mr Laufeyson's mouth twitches into a smirk. “Rangvald took the Kennasteinn home and used it with his wife. Imagine his glee to be able to feel what his lover did, to get better at pleasing her and the end result? Experiencing two orgasms at once. Well...his wife was delighted naturally.”

“I feel like there's something bad coming from the way you're telling this.”

“Oh there is. Now, Rangvald had been very careful up until now to take the necklace off if he knew the patient was going to expire. That worked very well up until the point it didn't. He kept it on too long and felt the brush of death as the warrior passed away in front of him. His brain chemistry was forever altered by it. It was no different to taking that first hit of heroin with the bliss it caused and he started craving it. He'd purposefully let the wounded die just to feel it again.”

“He got addicted to the feeling of dying?”

“All the endorphins one experiences on the brink of death are like nothing that can ever be replicated,” Mr Laufeyson reaches out a finger to trace along the chain of the necklace. “He was banished from the healer's temple, a failure. He made sure to steal the necklaces and then his killing spree began when his wife threw him out. He targeted the homeless and the vulnerable. It was far too easy.”

“How?”

“Oh? You want the fine details?” he seems amused. “A girl after my own heart. Rangvald would offer the necklace to them saying they could keep it if only they would wear it for him first. They would be free to sell it on afterwards. There was only ever one woman who refused and she was the sole reason he was found out.

The Asgardian militia finally caught up to him....”

The way he lets that hang there, it's inviting. It's inviting you to ask.

“What was he doing when they caught him?” you're aware you're barely breathing, fascinated by the story.

“He had a young woman bound spreadeagled in an abandoned farm. He'd cut every inch of her he could find. She was freezing cold from the ice water he kept dousing her in. She had Asgard's versions of sex toys keeping her arousal so high but never being able to tip over the edge so her pain tolerance was increased.”

He's coming closer to you, so close you're craning your neck upwards.

“Her rear was raw, welt marks from the cane still making indents in the flesh. Is this a pretty enough picture for you, because it gets worse, my dear. Rangvald was deep inside her, choking her with one hand and making more cuts with his other and the small scalpel he had. The militia got there in time to witness her passing as they pulled him off but he'd already gotten his fun. One of the necklaces was damaged as they took it off the woman and Rangvald was stuck, forever experiencing his high. It sent it completely mad.

He's still in the cells of the palace and to this day, he's still hard. He's still always feeling the flush of climax in a permanent blissed out state. He doesn't speak, he doesn't eat, he doesn't drink. He only whimpers, trapped in his last kill.”

The silence that followed that was deafening. You'd thought this haunted house would be about jump scares and about psychological anticipation. You never in your wildest dreams imagined that this single man telling you a single story could get you so antsy, so uncomfortable but the way he told it, the tone of his voice was so vivid that it was almost like you were seeing it happen in front of you.

“Still with me?” Mr Laufeyson looks down at you.

“I am. And that's the real necklace?”

“It is. Would you like to try it on? I'm not quite sure where the other one is so I have no idea if you'll experience anything.”

Surely it was just a story, right? Why did you feel so apprehensive then? Was it on the off chance it might be true?

“It's alright to be afraid,” he says, a tiny note of a challenge in his voice.

“I'll try it. I'll only regret it if I don't,” you swallow hard. “I've spent so long trying to get here after all.”

“That's the spirit,” Mr Laufeyson lifts the necklace from the bust and slips it over your head. “Do you feel anything?”

There was such an ache between your legs like you'd had the roughest sex of your life. There were the echo of bruises on your hip, your wrists, your ankles, your neck. It was then that you knew he wasn't joking. These were real relics.

“It's like I've been sexually tortured,” you gasp, steadying yourself on the pedestal. “And..”

There was something vibrating at the most sensitive part of you, not enough to be overwhelmingly pleasurable but enough to derail your train of thought.

“Let's get that off you,” Mr Laufeyson says hurriedly, lifting it away and replacing it. “It doesn't seem someone is having a pleasant experience on the other end.”

The residual thumping of arousal is distracting as you try to compose yourself again but it was coupled with the horrible realisation you'd just worn a murderer's necklace.

“Do you surrender?” Mr Laufeyson asks, studying your expression.

“No, no take me to the next room,” you collect yourself.

“Come along then,” he leads you to the next door. “Two more to go.”

**

_The Munrdraugr_

  
You passed through into a brighter room, one that seemed to be on the balcony in a large building that overlooked a glittering city. It was probably made up to look like Asgard for aesthetics.

On the decorative arbour wall were two shelves. One contained a sword with a golden twisted pommel and the other contained a child's toy, a wooden horse with eight legs.

“This seems like quite a nice place to keep something that's supposedly dark,” you remark as you enter.

“They like the sunlight. It'd be cruel to keep them locked away in the dungeons,” Mr Laufeyson shakes his head.

“They?”

“I'm getting to it. Do try not to insult them at any point. They've been through enough.”

You have no idea what he's talking about and he directs you to a reclining couch where you sit, awaiting his next story.

“As you can see from the last story, Asgard is quite technologically advanced. If Rangvald could make something to heal, the next logical step would be to retain those who had died. Torvi Haraldsdottir was the woman who rose to that particular challenge. She devised a way to keep the consciousness of a warrior and transfer it to an item which was called The Munrdraugr Process. This way, the experiences and the skills they had would not be lost. The warrior was often put into a weapon, like that sword.”

He points and you get now why he's referring to them so personally. Was there really a person's consciousness in there?

“The wielder of the sword would gain the ability of the warrior before, however...” he pauses, casting a glance to the glittering metal. “It had the side effect of creating an echo only the user could see. One can imagine that after years of existing in that form, it sends the echo quite mad. Always bound to it, can only be seen when touched...cannot be touched when seen.”

“And the horse?” you ask quietly, dreading the answer.

“Before the practise was outlawed, before the consciousness of those transferred lost their minds, it was expanded to include, not just warriors but healers, master craftsmen, scholars and eventually down to anyone who could afford the fee. What you are looking at there, my dear, is Auslag Bjornsdottir. Mother of two and with a husband who couldn't bear the thought of losing her to the illness she carried. Without her consent, he had her put in a child's toy so her boys could always talk to their mother if they needed to.

But when boys grow old, they rebel. It was all too easy to stop picking up the horse and when their father would try to force them into it, they hide the horse in their attic. It gathered dust for years, as did Auslag. They don't stop existing simply because they're not picked up, you see. By the time she was discovered again, the husband was dead, the boys had become men who had moved out and she was only found when a new family took over the house. By then she was a shell of the woman she was.”

You couldn't equate the horrific story with the two innocuous objects right in front of you. How could you? It seemed absurd and yet, you thought that about the necklaces too.

“I try my best for them,” Mr Laufeyson sighs. “I keep them warm, I give them a view but they're too far gone to save. I can see you're sceptical, my darling. I would suggest you pick up the horse first. Aslaug is more stable than Leif.”

He waves you over and you approach with more caution this time, reaching out an unsure hand to touch the toy before there's a strange feeling like ice water running down your back and you hear soft crying behind you.

You whirl around, horse clutched in one hand to see a redheaded woman curled in a ball by the balcony. Her eyes seem so vacant as she looks out onto the city but the tears are streaming steadily down her face.

“Auslag?” you call and that blank stare turns to you so slowly that it's creeping you out.

“My boys...do you know where my boys are?” she speaks, high pitched and strained. “They were supposed to tend the fields today. They haven't talked to me in so long. Do you know where they are?”

“No...no I don't, I'm sorry.”

“They'll come pick me up soon,” she begins rocking on the spot. “They will. I'm sure they will. They love their mother. They'd never abandon me. My husband would never let them. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.”

She dissolves into hysterical sobbing at this point and you replace the horse on the shelf feeling disturbed. This woman had been through so much and she never even asked for it.

“Now the sword,” Mr Laufeyson looks at your face. “The experience is not complete without touching both items...unless you wish to surrender now.”

“I'm fine,” you grit your teeth before handling the sword.

It's an explosion of sound that rings in your ears as Leif, the warrior is screaming in a demented kind of way. You see him, still dressed for battle and hitting at his own head repeatedly, trying to dash it on the stone wall.

“Holy shit,” you breathe which catches his attention and he bellows like a wounded bear before charging full pelt at you, crazed eyes wide with fury.

You drop the sword in fright just as he's four feet away and stumble back, falling onto the ground and scrambling away.

“He's much more far gone,” Mr Laufeyson doesn't even seem phased as he offers you a hand to help you up. “He wouldn't have been able to hurt you but I'm sure you understand now why the practice was branded barbaric and outlawed. Unfortunately there is no reversing what's already been done.”

“Is it not more humane to destroy the items so they can move on?” you shake yourself clear of the chill that's gripping your body.

“That's still being debated in the courts of Asgard centuries on. In the meantime, there are _thousands_ of items like these out there in the nine realms. This is where we get our ghost legends from on Earth.”

“Thousands?”

Thousands of souls just like these gone stark raving insane with time, trapped until someone makes the decision to free them.

“Thousands,” he affirms. “Now for the last room...are you sure you want to continue?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“I've run this particular style of house for only two other people before and neither had your inherent fascination this far in. They kept going primarily out of fear of being called a coward. You seem genuinely interested.”

“I know it's sick and twisted-”

“-captivation with the dark and depraved is _not_ sick. It's _cathartic_ ,” Mr Laufeyson circles you a little. “I doubt it means you'll go forth from this house and kill. The last room awaits and it contains the most evil thing in the entirety of Asgard. Be very sure you want to continue.”

“I'm sure,” you steel yourself.

“Very good,” he smiles before opening the last door.

**

_The Most Evil Thing in All of Asgard_

You think he's made a mistake, took a wrong turning when you enter the next location which just looks like an ordinary room and you can see the very edge of a four poster bed peeking around the corner.

“Confused?” Mr Laufeyson's hand brushes your shoulder. “Go on, ask.”

“What's in this room?”

“Go over there and find out. I'll tell you the story once you've seen,” he says cryptically.

You go around the bend before you stop in absolute horror. There's a woman tied to the bed by her wrists and she looks barely conscious.

She's completely naked save for a small device secured just between the juncture of her thighs and a tight collar around her throat. The only other thing she's wearing is a necklace with a black gemstone seated between the heaving valley of her breasts.

This was the person's feelings you'd gotten when you put on the Kennasteinn. It had to be.

“What the hell is going on?!” you spin around.

“The most evil thing in all of Asgard,” Mr Laufeyson approaches. “Is _me_.”

His appearance shifts as you're looking at it, face becoming more angular, cheekbones higher, hair flowing down even further down his shoulders.

“I never did give you the pleasure of my first name. I'm Loki, though I'm sure you've heard of me already,” he grins.

“Loki...so what, the entire house is just a set up for your games?” you take a step back.

“Not every time. Only a select few. At first I devised the house to pick anybody I chose but then I got...selective. You...oh _you_ , my dear, I was so looking forward to meeting you based on your answers to my questions.”

“What happens to the rest of them?”

“They leave the house. I don't keep everybody. This one has been with me for the last two years and I'm tiring of her. She broke so easily for me and it's rather dull now. There's no life behind the eyes. You I think I'd fare better with.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No I'm not staying here. I surrender.”

He laughs, cold and cruel before tutting, “You didn't read the terms and conditions correctly, did you? Would you care to look them up on your phone in point six, subsection B?”

Point Six, Subsection B turned out to say: _Should the aforementioned agree to these terms and enter the house, if they speak the words 'I surrender' they will forfeit their right to ever leave and become property of the owner._

“What?!” you stare at the words.

“I knew you hadn't read it correctly when you accepted so quickly....so I lied and said it was your safeword. I am the god of lies after all,” he shrugs casually. “And now you belong to me. I think it's time I disposed of the former.”

“What, why?!” you cry, trying to shield her from view.

“Would you rather I killed you instead? If you insist on playing the hero, let me assure you, I will drag you down into the darkness with me.”

The venom in his tone was enough that he was able to push past you and untie the girl who was shivering slightly. You wondered if she even had a clue what was going on. She was so dazed.

He yanked her up from the bed and stood with her in the centre of the room, her back to his chest as he kept her upright. You don't know how you could've missed the predatory gleam in his eyes before.

“Make a choice how she ends,” he mouths up her neck as she whimpers softly. “I can cut her throat, choke her, throw her off the balcony...you decide.”

“I'm not deciding that,” you shake your head violently.

“If you don't, I'll use a much much _slower_ method,” he snarls. “And I'll force you to watch the entire thing. Don't you understand, you silly little girl? You're in Asgard now. You passed through the portal to my realm and I am the law, the word and the state here. Nobody will care if this wretched Midgardian dies and I suggest if you want to ease her suffering then you'll give her a swift end.”

“I can't.”

“YOU WILL!” he bellows, the sound echoing off the walls.

He takes one of her wrists and twists violently, so violently the bone crunches and her hand flops, completely useless by her side as tears keep rolling down her face.

“Out the window,” you blurt out.

Having her throat cut would be painful for however long it would take her to die, being choked she'd have minutes where she'd be fighting to live and you couldn't handle witnessing that. Maybe if he threw her off the balcony, there'd be something to grab onto, something soft to break her landing. Maybe. Maybe you could tell yourself that.

“Very well,” he laughs silkily before undoing the collar and the necklace and her eyes seem to focus a little more, like she's becoming aware. “So be it.”

When he starts hauling her to the open doors, she realises what's going on and starts fighting. You just turn your back, blocking your ears so you can't hear anything but the scream as she's flung over still manages to penetrate, setting your teeth on edge.

It's not until your hands are yanked away from your face that you know it's over and Loki has you all to himself.

“I lied earlier. There's more than one dark thing in this room. Do you know what this collar does?” he holds it up.

“Makes you compliant,” you murmur, not wanting to look at him.

“How smart you are,” he sneers. “A conformity collar, yes. Another banned relic. It renders the wearer unable to be disagreeable. They're suggestible to anything the giver says. I'm showing you this because I don't like using it. Natural defiance is arousing but shutting in on yourself is not. Emily shut in on herself, became unresponsive in the last year and this is why I put the collar on, so she'd react to me. This is also why I sought a replacement. Now...will you give me a reason to put this on you?”

“No,” you eye the collar with fear.

“Good.”

In one push you go toppling towards the end of the bed and sprawl across the mattress, front first. He's on you in seconds, pinning your arms down and forcing your legs open with his knees.

“I knew you'd be different,” he whispers against your ear before reaching down and wrenching your pants open, splitting them all the way down and your panties follow soon after. “Do you know, the last time I disposed of a former girl, Emily begged me to let her go? You didn't do that. You jumped straight to what was the most humane death for her. I could see you working the logic out. You don't think like the others, there's something gnarled in your soul that's oh so attractive.”

“Would you have let Emily go if I asked?” you struggle with him.

“Yes, I would've,” he laughs cruelly. “Sarah was the first, she's back on Midgard and thinks this was all a nightmare.”

“You're lying to me!”

“Am I? Or was I testing to see how you mind works? Face it, darling, you're _made_ for me,” he gathers your wrists in one hand before delving his other in between your legs. “And look at you, you filthy little harlot. You're _soaking_.”

“That's from the necklace!”

“Is it?” he seems unconvinced. “Speaking of.”

The necklace is jammed over your head and he groans the second it touches your skin.

“Oh I can feel the fear, the fear and the arousal. It's been so long since I've felt that,” his fingers start stroking along your slit, gathering the wetness before sliding into your needy channel. “Don't fight it...or do. Either way is fun for me.”

You know he's wearing the other necklace by the way his breath hitches when yours does, by the way that he's zeroing in on what's making you keen until you've stopped struggling and instead your limbs are tensing, trying to force you over the edge so he'll stop. His panting is matching yours and he's grinding against your leg as he's using his thumb to keep thrusting at your inner walls and his other fingers to circle your clit.

“I know you're close,” he's clearly amused. “So scream for me.”

“No,” you growl back.

“I'll be able to feel how strong it is. There's no use lying to me. I'll make it worse for you if you try.”

He had you completely at his mercy. You couldn't do a thing to stop the impending release and when you reached the peak, you couldn't hold back the noise if you tried, which you really really did.

“Stars you are so responsive,” he growls, experiencing it with you. “That's the strongest I've ever felt a woman before. I should've accepted your application earlier.”

Drunk on the pleasure, it took you a while to realise you were being flipped over until green shimmering eyes were gazing into yours. He pinched at your nipple hard making you flinch before you heard his low chuckle.

“Very sensitive indeed. You will be a delight to keep. I'm going to claim you now, claim you for myself. You're going to let me because deep down, you want this. So directionless, so desperate for something new in your life, so desperate to know how deep the darkness goes.”

You try to fight him but with a wave of his hand, that same contraption you'd seen on Emily was now on you, a low intensity buzzing directly on your overwrought clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your resistance ebbed as he stuffed his hard cock into you, stretching you out until you thought he couldn't possibly fit any more of himself in.

“Such a tight, needy little quim,” Loki grins. “I can feel I'm pushing you to the limit. You've never had a god between your legs before. I would ask how you're enjoying it but I can already tell that.”

He ruts hard, so hard that you're pushing against his chest, trying to slow him down but it's useless. He's using your body like his personal toy.

With a flash of silver, a small cut is opened up on your collarbone which beads with blood. With the adrenalin, the pain is muted, becoming something different.

“Wonderful,” Loki reaches down and licks the droplets away. “A masochist. Perfect.”

Then his hands are wrapping around your neck, stealing the air away as you try to pry his fingers off. He's pressing firmly and you can feel the pressure building in your head. He's thrusting so hard that the bed is shaking underneath him.

As much as you don't want to, everything combined is barrelling you straight into another climax and when you fall off the edge, he lets go so your scream gathers volume, echoing around the room.

With a shout, he pushes deep inside you, filling you with his seed before collapsing on you.

With your mind clearing, you spot the dagger hanging off of his pushed down trousers and grab for it, slamming it into his neck. His eyes widen and he blusters for words, trying to attack you but with great effort you twist the blade, opening up the wound and blood splatters onto you like rain.

You shove him off, wrenching the dagger back out before running around the corner, desperate to find the exit, only to find...

“No,” you start shaking as you see Loki there, completely unharmed and with the biggest smirk on his face.

“Yes,” he holds out his arms. “Another test. That was my clone, although I'm wearing the real necklace and could feel everything you could. Divine.”

“How...what?!” you look at the bed which is completely clear and your own skin which is unmarred. “You wanted to see what I was capable of.”

“Murder apparently. Oh my, you didn't even hesitate about it,” he laughs warmly, disappearing and reappearing right behind you, shaking the dagger from your hand and looping his arm around your neck to keep you in place. “I've never been more aroused, my dear. The pure instinct. Straight in the jugular and you even _twisted_ it. I've never cum without touching myself before. The things that you do to me already. Would you like to do it again? Would you want to kill me again?”

“I'll never stop trying to escape,” you spit.

“Stars, I am going to _ruin_ you,” he licks the shell of your ear. “You will be the finest piece in my dark museum.”


End file.
